The king knew this reign must end.
And he could not right all that had passed.
What was red only won a thing forgotten.
Hope was the sole reason,
what was missed in the mourning.
It started to fall,
as favor would
turn to the knight.
He had to let go, let the weight
reel,
as foe became
the king new. This reign must end,
as faux became
real.
He had to let go. Let the wait
turn to the night.
As favor would,
it started to fall,
what was mist in the morning.
Hope was the soul. Reason
what was read. Only one a thing forgotten.
And he could not write all that had passed.
The king knew this rain must end.

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